Article: #14 - The Great Weekend Whopper Wars
#14 - The Great Weekend Whopper Wars
Monday morning show-and-tell. The three most dreaded words in the English language, right after "pop quiz today" and "rainy day activities." Jess slumped in her chair, watching her classmates bounce around like sugar-buzzed squirrels, all eager to share their supposedly amazing weekend adventures.
Oh, fantastic, she thought, mentally preparing herself for another round of "Who Had the Most Epic Weekend Ever?" It was like a competition nobody asked for, but everybody seemed determined to win.
"Alright, class," Mrs Henderson announced with the kind of enthusiasm that suggested she'd had way too much yoga zen training, "Who wants to share their weekend adventure first?"
Jess's best friend Lacey shot her hand up so fast it nearly dislocated her shoulder. "Ooh! Ooh! I went rock climbing with my cousin! We climbed this massive cliff that was like... 300 metres tall! Maybe 600 metres! And there were eagles circling us the whole time!"
Sure, Lacey, Jess thought. Because eagles just love hanging around suburban rock climbing walls at the local park.
But everyone "oohed" and "ah'd" appropriately, because that's what you do when your friend clearly just upgraded a trip to the indoor climbing gym into a National Geographic documentary.
Then Beau jumped up, practically vibrating with excitement. "That's nothing! My dad and I went white-water rafting down Class Five rapids! We almost got eaten by a crocodile, and then we had to build our own shelter when we got lost in the wilderness!"
Jess raised an eyebrow. Beau's idea of "wilderness" was usually the wooded area behind the Kmart car park, and the closest he'd come to a crocodile was probably the stuffed toy section at Target. Still, his stories were always entertaining, even if they required a healthy suspension of disbelief.
"Wow, Beau!" Lacey gushed, because supporting outrageous stories was apparently her full-time job. "That sounds incredible!"
All eyes turned to Jess. The popular girl. The funny one. The one who was supposed to have the most amazing adventures of all. She felt her stomach do a little flip-flop dance.
What was she supposed to say? That she'd spent Saturday morning doing laundry while her little brother sorted socks by colour? That her biggest adventure was discovering a particularly stubborn stain on her favourite jumper? That she'd actually enjoyed helping Mum plant tomatoes in the backyard because it was the only time she didn't have to be "on" for everyone?
Yeah, right. That'll maintain my social status for sure.
"Well," Jess began, her brain going into full creative overdrive, "my weekend was pretty wild too. My family went sailing, and my little brother fell overboard!"
The class gasped. Lacey clutched her chest dramatically.
"But don't worry," Jess continued, getting into the rhythm now. "I dove right in and pulled him back to the boat. The waves were huge – like, tsunami-sized. And while I was in the water, I caught this massive fish with my bare hands. Had to be at least 25 kilograms!"
25 kilograms? Really, Jess? Why not just say you wrestled a shark while you're at it?
But her audience was eating it up, so she pressed on.
"And then – get this – I found a brand new Nintendo Switch 2, still in its waterproof packaging, just floating in the middle of the ocean! Turns out some rich kid must have dropped it from their yacht."
Nintendo Switch 2? Does that even exist? Well, it does now, apparently.
"But the best part," Jess said, really hitting her stride now, "was when we helped Greenpeace rescue a sea turtle that was caught in a shark net. The turtle was huge – bigger than me – and it looked right at me with these ancient, wise eyes, like it was saying 'thank you.'"
The classroom was dead silent. You could practically hear everyone's brains trying to process this epic tale of maritime heroism.
"Wow," whispered someone from the back row.
Wow indeed, Jess thought, feeling both triumphant and slightly nauseous.
I've officially entered the realm of complete and utter nonsense.
But then something interesting happened. Lacey's eyes got that competitive glint, and she cleared her throat.
"And I forgot to mention that after rock climbing, we went skydiving. And I performed a perfect triple somersault mid-air. The instructor said I was a natural."
Oh, we're doing this now, are we?
Beau wasn't about to be outdone. "Yeah, well, after the bear incident, we discovered an ancient Aboriginal treasure cave. My dad thinks we might be millionaires now."
A treasure cave. Of course. Right next to the suburban Kmart wilderness.
Jess felt the conversation spiralling into the absurd, but she couldn't stop herself. It was like a runaway train of ridiculousness, and she was the conductor.
"That's cool," she said with a casual shrug, "but I didn't mention the part where we accidentally sailed into international waters and had to negotiate with pirates to get home. Turns out they were actually pretty reasonable once you explain the situation calmly."
Pirates. I just said pirates. In the middle of whatever body of water is near our landlocked suburb.
The classroom had gone from impressed to confused to slightly concerned. Mrs Henderson was giving Jess a look that suggested she might need to call the school counsellor.
"And," Jess continued, because apparently her mouth had disconnected from her brain entirely, "the pirates were so impressed with my negotiation skills that they made me an honorary captain and gave me a map to their secret treasure island. I'm going back next weekend to claim my rightful share of the booty."
Booty. I actually said booty in front of the entire class.
That's when she saw it. The look. The collective realisation dawning on her classmates' faces that maybe, just maybe, Jess's weekend adventure had ventured into the realm of complete fiction.
"Pirates?" asked Marcus from the front row, his eyebrow raised so high it was practically touching his hairline. "In our state? The landlocked one?"
Busted.
"Oh, um," Jess stammered, feeling her cheeks burn. "Did I say pirates? I meant... park rangers. Very stern park rangers who... guard the lake?"
But it was too late. The spell was broken. Even Lacey was looking at her with a mixture of confusion and concern.
"Jess," Beau said quietly, "are you feeling okay? Because that story was... I mean, it was really..."
"Completely made up?" Marcus supplied helpfully.
The classroom erupted in whispers and giggles. Jess felt her carefully constructed popularity crumbling like a house of cards in a hurricane.
"It wasn't made up!" she protested, but even she didn't believe herself anymore. "It was just... embellished. For dramatic effect."
"Embellished?" Mrs Henderson stepped forward, her teacher-sense clearly tingling. "Jess, would you like to share what you actually did this weekend?"
Oh, absolutely not. Let's definitely not do that.
Instead, Jess did what any self-respecting teenager does when caught in an elaborate web of lies: she grabbed her backpack and bolted for the door.
"I need some air," she mumbled, leaving behind a classroom full of confused classmates and one very concerned teacher.
The playground was blissfully empty during class time. Jess found her favourite spot under the old oak tree and slumped against its trunk, feeling like the world's biggest fraud.
Congratulations, Jess, she thought bitterly. You've officially become the girl who tells ridiculous lies about fighting pirates in landlocked states. Your social status is definitely secure now.
She was so lost in her self-pity that she didn't hear footsteps approaching until Lacey and Beau plopped down beside her.
"So," Beau said with a grin, "pirates, huh?"
Jess groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Don't. Just... don't."
"Hey," Lacey said gently, "we're not here to make fun of you. We just... well, we wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm fine," Jess mumbled through her fingers. "Just mortified beyond repair, but totally fine."
"Want to talk about what actually happened this weekend?" Beau asked.
Jess peeked through her fingers at her friends. They looked genuinely concerned, not judgemental or mocking. Maybe, just maybe, the truth wouldn't be that bad after all.
"Promise you won't laugh?" she asked.
"We promise," they said in unison.
Jess took a deep breath. "I did laundry. Like, a lot of laundry. And I helped my mum plant vegetables in our garden. And I read three books while sitting in the dirt, getting my hands all muddy. And you know what? I actually liked it. It was peaceful and quiet, and I didn't have to be 'on' for anyone. I could just... be me."
She waited for the laughter, the teasing, the inevitable social downgrade. Instead, she got something completely unexpected.
"That sounds amazing," Lacey said wistfully. "I've never grown anything before. What kind of vegetables?"
"Really?" Jess looked up, surprised. "You're not going to make fun of me for having the most boring weekend in history?"
Beau laughed, but it wasn't mean-spirited. "Jess, you want to know what I actually did this weekend? I played video games in my pyjamas and helped my dad organise the garage. The white-water rafting thing? Total fiction. I mean, I love adventure, but sometimes I just want to hang out and do normal stuff too."
"And I went to the climbing gym with my cousin," Lacey added sheepishly. "It was fun, but it was definitely not 600 metres tall, and there were definitely no eagles. I don't know why I said all that stuff."
Jess stared at her friends. "Wait. So we all just... lied? About our weekends?"
"Apparently," Beau said with a rueful grin. "Though I have to say, your pirate story was definitely the most creative."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each processing the absurdity of their morning.
"You know what?" Lacey said suddenly. "I actually want to try gardening. It sounds relaxing."
"Really?" Jess asked.
"Really. And maybe next weekend, instead of making up stories about extreme sports, we could all just... hang out at your house? Maybe plant some stuff together?"
Beau nodded enthusiastically. "I'm in. Though I reserve the right to dramatically narrate our gardening adventures. 'And lo, Beau did battle with the mighty dandelion, armed only with a hand trowel and determination!'"
Jess laughed – the first genuine laugh she'd had all day. "You guys are weird."
"Says the girl who invented international pirate negotiations," Lacey shot back with a grin.
"Fair point."
As they walked back towards the school building, Jess realised something important. Her friends liked her not because she had the most exciting weekends or the wildest adventures. They liked her because she was Jess – the real Jess, not the performance version she thought she had to be.
"Hey," she said as they reached the door, "next Monday, I'm just going to tell the truth about my weekend. Even if it's boring."
"Deal," said Beau. "Though I'm still going to dramatically narrate our gardening adventures."
"I wouldn't expect anything less," Jess replied.
And for the first time in a long time, she was actually looking forward to Monday morning show-and-tell. Because sometimes the truth – even the boring, muddy, laundry-filled truth – is the best adventure of all.
Who knew that being honest could be more terrifying than fighting imaginary pirates?
The following Saturday found three kids kneeling in a vegetable garden, arguing about the proper spacing for tomato plants and laughing until their sides hurt. No pirates were harmed in the making of their weekend adventure, though one particularly stubborn weed did put up quite a fight.
And on Monday morning, when Mrs Henderson asked about their weekend adventures, they told the truth – complete with dirt under their fingernails and genuine smiles on their faces.
It turned out that reality, while not always as exciting as fiction, was infinitely more satisfying when shared with real friends.
This Grand Little Story for Grand Tropique, was co-authored by Cat Davis and AI, and edited by Cat Davis. Visit Grand Tropique Pyjamas
